Page 55 of Hot Knot Summer
While Atlas gives off that whole rugged lumberjack-who-could-bench-press-you vibe, Levi is... well, he’s what would happen if someone gave a Renaissance sculptor permission to go absolutely feral. Dark hair falls across his forehead in that annoyingly perfect way that would take me forty-five minutes and three styling products to achieve. Cheekbones sharp enough to split shadows. And a body that’s all muscle wrapped in a charcoal Henley and jeans that fit him like they were custom made.
But it’s his eyes that make my stomach do a weird flippy thing—amber gold and watching me with this little half-smile that makes me wonder if he can read minds. God, I hope not. My thoughts right now aren’t exactly PG-13. Like, if he told me to get on my knees, I don’t think my brain would even put up an argument.
“I was coming to get you,” he murmurs, pushing off from the doorframe with a graceful movement that has me mentally comparing him to a panther. A sexy panther. In people clothes. My brain is a disaster zone.
“Atlas said you might be thirsty,” he continues,moving into the room with a casual confidence that somehow makes the space feel smaller.
I realize I’m staring when his lips twitch into a small smile. Not the polite customer-service smile he wore when Atlas introduced us yesterday. This one has an edge to it, as if he’s enjoying a private joke.
“Sorry, what?” I manage, mortified to be caught ogling him like he’s the last donut in the box.
His smile widens, revealing a small dimple in his right cheek. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?”
“I was...”—my brain scrambles desperately—“honestly just having an existential crisis about how three bachelors live in a place this gorgeous while my place had a suspicious stain on the ceiling that I’m pretty sure was forming its own ecosystem.”
He laughs, and the sound is deeper than I expected, more genuine.
“So, you like the place?”
“Likeis what I feel about pizza and puppies. This house is...” I gesture helplessly. “It’s a palace.”
“Thanks.” He actually looks pleased, a hint of pride softening his sharp features. “I had a vision for it. The others helped execute, but the design was my baby.”
“Well, congratulations on your very attractive baby,” I say, then immediately cringe. “That came out weird. Please ignore me. I’m still slightly traumatized from nearly becoming a human s’more the other day.”
Instead of backing away slowly like any reasonable person would, Levi just grins wider. “So, hungry?”
My stomach answers before my mouth can, growling audibly in the quiet room.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he answers, heading toward the kitchen. “Come on, you can raid the fridge if you want before you start eyeing the furniture for edibility.”
I follow him, oddly comforted by his lack of reaction to my awkwardness.
“So, this is how the other half lives,” I mutter, perching on a barstool at the island.
Levi gives me a curious look as he opens the refrigerator. “Other half?”
“You know, the half that doesn’t eat ramen three nights a week.”
“Ah.” He nods sagely. “The struggle between artistic integrity and capitalism’s cold, unforgiving embrace.”
I blink, surprised by the poetic phrasing. “Exactly that.”
“Drink preference?” he asks, head still in the fridge. “We’ve got water, juice, beer—though it’s probably too early for that.”
“Do you have soda?” I ask, trying to appear casual while my internal organs are still doing the electric slide every time he moves.
He turns around, and the way his face lights up makes my heart do a stupid little stutter. In each hand, he holds a can of Dr. Pepper like he’s presenting the crown jewels. “Would you believe this is my favorite? The others think I’m crazy.”
“No way!” The genuine delight that bubbles up surprises even me. “It’s my favorite, too!”
“Atlas and River think it tastes like sweetened motor oil,” he adds, sliding a can across the island to me. “Their loss.”
Popping the tab, I take a grateful sip. “So good.” I tap mine against his. “To temporary roommates who don’t judge my questionable beverage choices.”
“Speaking of your temporary residence,” he says after taking a long drink. “Want to see where you’ll be staying?”
“Lead the way,” I reply, sliding off the stool and grabbing my backpack. “Fair warning though, my standards are now impossibly high after seeing this kitchen.”
